


Fallen

by Eilinelithil



Series: Lover's Leap [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Darkness, Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels, Lust, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/pseuds/Eilinelithil
Summary: Belle finds herself inhabiting the consciousness of a demon. When she finds a fallen angel, she begins to recognise the strand of darkness within herself. Not necessarily 'evil' but certainly not innocence and light. Who could she be if she embraced that darkness, and... shouldn't she be looking for Rumplestiltskin? Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin finds himself in the conscisousness of an angel... falling.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Lover's Leap [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863370
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fourth of the AU-gust fics. The prompt was Angels and Demons.

Rumplestiltskin paused in his spinning to watch Belle reading - or _not_ reading, as was the case. She was staring at the same page in her book as she had been some time ago. She was clearly distracted, and it troubled him. She had been this way, on and off, since the last time the Fairy curse took them both to realm stranger than he had ever seen.

As quietly as he could, he stood up from the wheel, and crossed to the chaise longue, lowering himself beside Belle. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

“Something on your mind?”

“No, no, I…” she trailed off and then asked, “Why do you ask?”

“Well you’ve been staring at that page for as long as I’ve been spinning,” he said. “So, clearly something is bothering you.” Turning playful and snatching the book from her lap he sang impishly, “Come on… out with it!”

Belle chuckled a little, but it was half hearted at best, and then she turned to face him, and with a sigh asked, “How do I know I did the right thing?”

“The right thing?” he sobered at once.

“For that woman and her child.”

“We’re here aren’t we?”

“Yes, but…”

“Well, we wouldn’t be if we hadn’t fixed what was wrong… met the conditions of the curse.”

She sighed again, and Rumplestiltskin reached for her hands as she said, “I suppose.”

“This isn’t like you, Belle,” he said with a gentle squeeze of her hands in his own.

“I’m sorry,” she said morosely, and it twisted Rumplestiltskin’s heart to hear her so sorrowful. “I’m just wrestling with my demons, I suppose.”

* * *

The new reality slammed into him with all the force of a war hammer. He was falling… spinning and tumbling, not through air, but through time and space. Pain wracked his body as he fell, and the vast nothingness became a dry and dusty plain, as with another cry of agony, he hit the solid ground.

He had no notion of where he was, even _who_ he was… all he knew was pain; from the fall, and between his shoulders, as though someone had taken a dagger and stabbed him with it. Winded he allowed himself to just lie there on the ground, learning to breathe again.

He had fallen.

Overwhelmed and weary, he let himself sink into oblivion.

* * *

She had seen it begin. One of the Chosen falling, a fireball from the eternal into the physical; Her realm, where she was Prime. She had known it was coming. Too many of them meddling in the affairs of man.

She hurried to find the site of the fall, curious to see what manner of creature this fallen angel truly was, and when she knew what made them favored above all others, she would take it and make it hers.

She would rise.

Arrogant and energized, she let the wind carry her closer.

* * *

It was the cold that woke Rumplestiltskin to his current reality, though the manner of the transfer was different from all the others, and it made him wary. This was wrong somehow. Waking more he reached for the consciousness of the body he inhabited and felt…

Nothing. There was no other consciousness. _It can’t be possible._

“Looks much better on me, don’t you think?”

The voice startled him, and sitting up almost too quickly, judging how much the world spun wildly around him, he fixed his eyes on the figure in front of him.

The minute he did, in spite of his world still spinning, he all but snarled. “Give it back! It doesn’t belong to you!”

She shot him what he was sure was meant to be a coquettish smile, but which drove him closer to fury as he watched the edges of the feathers that made up the cloak she had stolen from him darken, as if they were becoming singed in an invisible heat.

“Doesn’t belong to you either, Fallen,” she said, and then she laughed. “Not any more.”

“I said take it off!” he commanded, coming instantly to his feet, his anger, the heat flowing inside of him steadying the world. He drew back his hands gathering that energy into a ball of fire that burned in his palms. “Off… now…!”

She laughed, and gestured with her fingertips toward his captive fire. The feathered cloak opened for just a moment, revealing her shadowed body beneath.

“Seems you really _are_ as dark as they say,” she murmured, and began to stalk towards him, step by slow step. Her head tipped back in a kind of seductive defiance that pulled at him in exactly the way it shouldn’t.

He glanced at the fire, still held in his hands, and instead of the pure white light he would usually wield, the magic he threatened her with was shot through with swirling and darkening purple. For a moment alone it alarmed him, and then a strange and familiar acceptance came over him as Rumplestiltskin felt he became more like himself than the fallen angelic being he was a part of.

He lifted his hand in threat then, and warned slowly and through teeth gritted into a grimace, “Oh _darker_ , dearie. Much darker.”

“And I’m glad,” she murmured, and slipped the cloak from her shoulders, to let it slide down her arms, and into a darkened heap behind her as she came closer still. He had barely a moment to register that beneath the cloak, she was entirely naked.

Her shapely breasts moved enticingly with each step, each sway of her hips, and as his eyes slipped lower, seemingly of their own accord, he took in the sight of her smooth, flat belly, and the triangle of dark hair that shielded her sex. He wanted to, but couldn’t look away.

He wanted _her_.

“Like what you see…?” she purred as she slid her hands up to his shoulders, to the fastening of the robes he wore. “Dark One.”

* * *

Belle found the fallen angel easily, like a dark blot on the landscape. She pulled herself from the particles the wind had made of her, tugging herself into a coherent whole. It felt… strange to her; strange and uncomfortable to feel the charge of energy rolling through her… to taste the allure of the power she held as this… demonic creature.

She knew she should have been revolted, both by whom she inhabited, and by the lust for power that was almost a physical ache that left her wet and swollen for want of it, but she wasn’t. She let the feelings of desire and need flow over him as the power coursed through her.

Or was it for want of _him?_

The thought brought her up short for just a moment, and the creature she was took full advantage of her hesitation. She felt herself drop to her hands and feet, four limbs, skittering toward him until she could drop to her knees by his feet and all but scramble up over him, nose down, behind in the air, smelling him, drawing in the scent of him, the taste of him - musk and woody spices. She hummed softly, contemplating simply taking what she wanted while he was without capacity to move.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she whispered to herself.

Almost like a lever pulling upright, she moved away, waving a hand as she did to bring the feathered cloak he wore to her hands. She buried her face in the softness of the feathers and breathed in deeply, before shaking out the cloak and swirling it around onto her shoulders again.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as the residual power left in the item she now wore flowed in to join with her own; enticing, intoxicating, almost making her forget, she was supposed to be looking for him, for _Rumplestiltskin_ , not fraternizing with some stranger, and a fallen angel at that.

She’d read about them in her books. Tales of long ago in far away places. Fallen angels, the Grigori - watchers they were called and were meant to be, but some of them had interfered in the affairs of man, teaching them science and healing, writing and engineering. They were things that the god of that world did not want them to have or understand, and those of the fallen that did were banished from the eternal forever.

It was the chill of the afternoon when this one woke, and Belle took him in, searching for anything that might be a clue as to who he was, and if he could help her to find Rumplestiltskin, though she doubted it, given this one’s own set of troubles, and she had smelled nothing on him that might suggest Rumplestiltskin.

“Looks much better on me, don’t you think?” She took up her most enticing stance, swinging her hips slightly from side to side, and making the cloak brush the ground at her feet. Either her words or her actions angered him for his answer held the hatred of anger.

“Give it back! It doesn’t belong to you!”

“Doesn’t belong to you either, Fallen,” and laughing added, “Not any more.”

She smiled at his then, meant to entice him to her way of thinking. Belle cringed inwardly as she realized that it wasn’t her host whose thought it was to do that, but hers… it was a part of her to be risque and suggestive. Where did it come from?

Belle might have blushed, but here, she merely shivered as the Fallen One snarled his command through gritted teeth.

“I said take it off!”

The moment after he spoke he opened his hands, filled them with the power he held inside of himself. In an angel it was the pure and painful light of the creator. She would know. She had fallen foul of such a think enough times, but his light was not pure. There was darkness within, manifesting in the deep, deep swirls of purple.

He commanded her again. “Off… now…!”

She gestured to his hands - the color niggled at her; should have been familiar - and she laughed.

“Seems you really _are_ as dark as they say,” she murmured, and began to slowly move toward him, making her hips sway exaggeratedly so that the robe would swing open and closed. Let him take a glance at what lay beneath.

“Oh, _darker_ , dearie. Much darker,” he said.

His words rushed through her. _Rumple? It couldn’t be… he would never…_ her thought trailed off as she heard herself answer.

“And I’m glad.”

She shivered again, drawn by the darkness in him, in herself, and before she knew what she had done, she flicked up her hands to push the cloak from her shoulders… her shiver becoming a hum through her body, to her core, as she saw desire in his eyes.

“Like what you see…?” she purred as she slid her hands up to his shoulders, to the fastening of the robes he wore. “Dark One.”


End file.
